It's Genetic
by Charlotte Lobster
Summary: Falling in love with the girl was only part of the dreaded gene. A broken heart made it complete.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own THG. obviously.

**Alright, a new little story. Originally, I was going to post it all together, but it would have been a monster of a one-shot. And since I had already had the story divided in sections, I decided to split it up in chapters. Some are short (such as this one) and some are long. The whole thing is pretty much done though so I'll post everyday (to make up for the lack of length).**

Oh and the story pretty much disregards all of Mockingjay and about half of Catching Fire (no Quarter Quell basically).

** Enjoy.

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**

Really, he should have expected it.

It was just history repeating itself. His father had fallen for her mother, he had fallen for her, so why wouldn't his son fall for her daughter. It was almost funny that he had not realized it would happen sooner.

(But at the same time, not funny at all. Tragic honestly).

But what was even more ridiculous was that he actually, sort of hoped that his son would be the one to get the girl. The one who would break the cycle of heartache that seemed to be passed down from generation to generation just like the blonde hair and blue eyes. Deep (deep) down though he knew it would not happen. Falling in love with the girl was only part of the dreaded gene.

A broken heart made it complete.


	2. Chapter 2

The day it started was too familiar.

(He really, really should have seen it coming).

It was his son's first day of school. An awful day for any parent in any district. It meant their child was one year closer to being eligible for the reaping. And because this was _his _son it was one step closer to the inevitable.

The odds were never in his favor. Actually, they were against him.


	3. Chapter 3

He had experienced many life altering moments in his time - too many for one person. And he remembered them all so clearly that he could call upon any memory and watch it play through his mind like one views an old video again and again.

Some memories he relived every day. Others he hid so far back in his mind it was almost as if they were not there. (But they were and always would be).

The day he met his son was a one he often revisited in his thoughts.

The 80th Hunger Games were taking place that year. He was in the Capitol mentoring tributes with Haymitch, appearing at frivolous Capitol parties, and maintaining the image his old mentor had created for him. He was no longer one of the star-crossed lovers from District 12, but now the heartbroken guy the women of the Capitol loved.

(Sadly, acting was never needed for either of these roles. He only wished it was _all_ fake).

He returned to the Training Center late that night. Their first tribute had died at the Cornucopia and the second had been killed by the Careers that evening. It always pained him, watching helplessly while the two kids died. As much as he knew he should not, he grew attached to every one of them. Haymitch had ordered a seemingly endless supply of liquor to their monitoring room, and both had drank their regrets and fears and worries away.

He saw a woman with something in her arms waiting near the front door, leaning against the wall, partly hidden in the shadows cast from the streetlights. As he staggered up the few steps to the entrance, he could tell she was older than him, enough so to be his mother. She looked familiar, like someone he had seen long ago, and his fuzzy mind tried to draw a connection.

"Do I know you?" He somewhat slurred, squinting his eyes at her, as if that would make things clearer in his drunken state.

"No, you don't," She replied in that Capitol accent he was all too familiar with (unfortunately), "But you knew my daughter, Ceteria."

He had known a Ceteria - two years ago. Met her when he - under Haymitch's suggestion - was trying to move one, trying to forget (with no success).

"Oh... yeah. You look just like her."

"She died a few days ago," The women said.

"Oh." He was unsure why exactly she was there, telling him about her daughter's death. He had barely known the girl. "I'm so sorry." He accidently made it sound like a question.

The woman was silent, and he did feel sympathetic toward her even in his confusion. Searching his mind for something to say, he found nothing. Alcohol always impaired his usual eloquence.

"I know a lot of people who die," He offered, but realized how unhelpful it was (although truthful).

"I'm sure of that. And I'm also sure you're probably wondering what I'm doing here."

He nodded. She extended her arms, holding out to him whatever she had been holding. It looked like a bundle of cloth.

He tentatively reached out for it, asking, "What is it?" But as soon as the question was out of his mouth, he knew the answer, saw the face. It was a small child, a toddler.

"This is your son, Marcellus."

(He had never sobered up as quickly as he did then).

"Are you sure?" It was a stupid question. _He _was sure the boy was his son. The blonde hair - even the face - was his.

"Completely."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"My daughter was sick before she died. I'm sick too. He needs you to take care of him."

He looked down at the child wrapped in blankets in his arms. The little boy opened his eyes and they were the same shade of blue as his (and it was like the kid was his clone, not his son).

The woman turned and began to descend the steps. He panicked, not expecting her to leave him so suddenly.

"Wait!" She paused. "I don't know how to take of child."

"No one does at first," She told him with a small, sad smile, "You'll learn."

And he did. (With a lot of help).


	4. Chapter 4

_Wrote this before Mockingjay came out. Just saying._

_

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_

He could blame a variety of people for him meeting Ceteria and having the child he never wanted in this kind of world. But he would not do that.

(Well, maybe a little).

Haymitch was the one that forced him to be the guy every woman in the Capitol wanted.

"Alright you've been heartbroken for two years now. It's time to change things up," Haymitch said as they traveled by train to the Capitol for the 78th Games.

"I _am_ heartbroken," He said with those eyes of his that had been so empty for so long.

Haymitch sighed at that. "I know you are, boy, but the Capitol is bored with it and the only way to keep us safe is to keep them entertained."

He covered his face with his hands and muttered. "I hate this." (He hated them, the Capitol).

"Yeah, well, we all do."

A silence passed, both of them feeling miserable. He knew he would have to do whatever they wanted. Keeping the Capitol happy was the only thing keeping him and Haymitch alive and safe from President Snow. Slowly, he lifted his head from his hands.

"Well, what's the plan?"

"You're making a new friend once we get to the Capitol."

Finnick Odair was the 'new friend' Haymitch had been referring to. He knew immediately what Haymitch wanted when he was introduced to Finnick. He was to be just like him. He'd be the next gorgeous, golden boy of the Capitol.

(He hated/loved this idea most of all).

He was distracted, going to all the Capitol's parties at the side of Finnick Odair. Finnick taught him all his tricks from flirting and schmoozing to gaining access to any part of the Capitol he wanted. They wore the fancy clothes and were seen at all the right events and the Capitol _loved _it.

He took no pleasure in his new lifestyle (at first). His actions felt forced and they felt wrong, like he was cheating or something. Which was a ridiculous thought - he had no one. But he soon convinced himself he could enjoy his time. He deserved to be happy; he was allowed to move on. (Or at least try to).

So he _tried_ to have fun and some nights he did. However, those nights usually involved a lot of alcohol.

(His drinking was almost equal with Haymitch. (And that worried him)).

And after Haymitch had suggested it, he also _tried_ to find someone new to love, but that was pointless.

It was too late when he learned that Finnick never went home with any Capitol women. This threw him so much that he confronted the bronze-haired man one night after Finnick had begun to slur and stumble.

"Why do you do this?"

"Hmmm?" Finnick mumbled, slouched against a plush armchair in some ritzy hotel.

"The partying? I always assumed you did all of this for the women, but you don't. Is it the popularity you love?"

"Personally, I could care less what these people think of me. But it's not up to me."

"Who then?"

He watched Finnick stare off into space, as if contemplating his next words, selecting them very carefully and cautiously.

"Y'know, I'm in love with a girl back in my district."

"I am too," He murmured though surprised with Finnick's confession.

Finnick gave him a skeptical look. "I'm the only person you know from District Four."

"I meant in District 12."

"Ah." Finnick chuckled to himself. "But my girl didn't run off with her cousin."

He would have been hurt (maybe he was a little) by the words if they had not shocked him. _That_ was supposed to be a secret. He knew what had happened, Haymitch knew, and he assumed that President Snow knew, but that was all.

"How do you know that?" He whispered.

Finnick only shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"Yes. It does-"

"So," Finnick interrupted, "I may be in love with this girl, but the Capitol is in love with me. And the problem is that the Capitol loved me first. So even though I'd like nothing more than to stay in District Four with my Annie, I can't. Because that would break the Capitol's heart and the President wouldn't want me breaking their hearts."

This piece of information was another shock to him. He knew President Snow had given threats before, but he never thought other Victors were forced to act for the Capitol. But then again, _everything_ in the Capitol was just a big, flashy show put on for its own entertainment.

A time passed as he contemplated what Finnick had told him. One part still bothered him. "Finnick, how do you know what really happened?"

But Finnick was out cold.


	5. Chapter 5

(And if he wanted to continue the blame game, he could blame her for breaking his heart in the first place).


	6. Chapter 6

The Capitol loved his new self. Unfortunately for them, it was gone the next year.

He was of no use that year. Haymitch had almost left him in District 12 that year, but decided it would be unwise to leave him by himself, unattended. Even Haymitch was unnerved by how hollow his eyes were. He did not hear a single snarky comment that year. (However, he didn't hear much of anything that year).

Back in District 12, he only ventured out of his house in the Victors Village once a week. He had no reason to leave it more often. On that one day, he would check on Haymitch and make sure the man had not drank himself to death. Then he would race to his family's bakery, because he _heard _the whispers and _saw _the stares (every single one) as he walked the busy streets in town. He would hide back in the kitchen, and listen to his father talk about business and the weather and other light, simple, safe subjects. He'd even listen to his mother's complaints about how much work there was now that he only appeared once a week. (He also listened as his father whispered worries to his brothers about him. And he would think, _At least _they_ still care_).

He followed his routine with such an exactness that it was impossible not to notice when something was off.

He stepped out of his house one day only to stop dead in his tracks. The empty, silent house that had haunted his memory for long was very much alive again. Lights shone from clean windows and smoke billowed out the brick chimney. He stood there just staring for a long time. Because he _had_ to be dreaming or hallucinating or something. It simply _could not_ be real.

Slowly, he made his way toward the house. The house had become an unnoticed prop in the background of his world, so it was strange to see it active again. He did not even bother with knocking when he reached the front door. He just opened it (because it didn't matter. This was just his imagination play a cruel trick on him).

As he stood in the foyer of the house so similar to his own, he saw a blonde head poke out from behind a door with wide, startled eyes. Then, with a sigh of relief, a girl stepped out into full view.

"Oh goodness, you scared me."

Prim looked so much older from when he last saw her. Her hair was longer. Her face seemed more mature, but still so innocent.

"I was afraid you were a Peacekeeper finally come to kick us out." She said with a little laugh (as if anything about this was funny).

"What are you doing here?"

"We're back," She said with a delighted smile.

"Is..." But he could not bring himself to ask about her.

Luckily, Prim filled in the blanks. "It's just my mother and me here right now. But we'll be gone soon."

"Why are you here?"

"To gather food and medical supplies for our old home. My mother wants to set up her old shop again."

"Wait, you're back in the district for good now?"

"Yes."

"All of you?"

She gave him a pitying look. It bothered him. He had been pitied by the Capitol, by his family, even by Haymitch, and he did not want anyone else looking down on him. "Yes, _all_ of us."

"Where... she..." Again questions about her were stuck in his throat.

"She's," He wished she stop looking at him like _that. _He didn't want her sympathy. "She's with the Hawthornes right now."

And he could not be in that house anymore. He had to leave. It was too much. It was too _real._

"I have to go." And he was gone.

He left the Victors Village immediately, wanting to be as far away from that house as possible, and went straight to the bakery that day, forgetting to check on Haymitch. The whispers and glances seemed to come from every person he passed, and he _knew_ they all knew. They had probably already seen her while he was hiding away in his house.

"Oh, hello, son," His father greeted when he walked through the front doors of the bakery. He always came through the back. "You're here early."

He could tell his father knew by the concern he wore on his face.

"How long?" He whispered. His voice was hoarse.

His father was quiet and he knew the man was thinking about lying, pretending he didn't know what he was asking about.

"Just tell me."

"A couple of days."

"And everyone knows?"

"I've heard lots of talk."

The door opened and a couple obviously from the town walked in. There conversation halted and they looked at him with the _exact _same expression Prim had and he needed to go, get out of there (because everyone had known, _except_ him). He ignored his father's calls for him to wait and nearly sprinted back to the Victor's Village.

By the time he was in front of Haymitch's door, he was practically fuming. He was angry with Haymitch for not telling him this, for keeping _another_ secret from him when they had promised long ago to stop.

He found Haymitch passed out at his kitchen table.

"Wake up!" He gave the drunken man's shoulder a few (hard) shakes.

"What?" Haymitch growled at him, annoyed from being woken up in such a violent manner.

"Why didn't you warn me!"

"About what?"

"They're back. They're back and you didn't tell me!"

"Who's back? What are you going on about?"

He was even more furious with the old man. (He had convinced himself at some point in his anger that this was all Haymitch's fault).

"Don't do this to _me_, Haymitch. Don't lie to me anymore!"

"Would you quit yelling? I'm not lying to you! What's got you so upset?"

"She's back and you didn't even bother to tell me! What, did you just assume it would be better for me to stumble upon the fact? That I'd see one of them eventually and figure it out? Or were you just too busy drinking yourself into a drunken stupor you couldn't find the time to tell me!"

Haymitch glared at him and he knew he had hurt the man.

"Katniss? I'm assuming you're talking about Katniss?"

"Who else?"

Haymitch sighed, reaching for the closest bottle of liquor. "I didn't know-"

"Don't lie-"

"I did not know," He stressed each word, "I would've told you if I had. Here," Haymitch handed him the bottle. He took it. "You could use this right now more than I could."

He sunk into one of the wooden chairs around the filthy table. The alcohol burned on its way down, taking place of the fiery anger that had melted away.

"You know why she's here?" Haymitch asked getting up looking for another bottle for himself.

He shook his head and took another swig.

(It was weeks later when he actually saw her, moving into the Victor's Village. That night he almost died from the amount of Haymitch's liquor he had consumed. It wasn't seeing her that had hurt him so bad. It was seeing the little, black-haired baby she held in her arms).


	7. Chapter 7

It was a year later (the winter after the 79th Hunger Games, the games he stayed locked away in the monitoring room for) that the bakery burned down, both of his parents dying with it. It was considered a tragic accident. After that he rarely went anywhere, just his house and Haymitch's.

His two brothers rebuilt the place (with his money) and worked there, but he refused to step foot in the new building. After time, he eventually lost touch with his brothers.

He always blamed (and would always blame) himself for his parents' death. He remembered Finnick's story about having to act for the Capitol all to well and convinced himself the fire was no coincidence.

He had refused to party, to talk, to smile, to even show himself the last time he went to the Capitol. They had missed him sorely. And although there was no evidence that the Capitol had anything to do with the fire, nothing to prove his theory right, he took it as a warning.

The next year he went back and partied with Finnick and was adored by the Capitol.

(The fire was the only horrible accident he ever saw after that).


	8. Chapter 8

No one in the Capitol or other districts was ever supposed to know what _really_ happened to Katniss. It was the plan he and Haymitch constructed when she first ran away. Even the people of District 12 pretended as if she was still there, living among them. They never questioned her disappearance. No one asked why she never attend the Games, why she never mentored, why she was never really even talked about.

What they did know was this: She had left him for someone else. They did not know it was her dark-haired 'cousin' but really, they didn't care who it was.

He and Haymitch broke the news to the Capitol carefully. They knew it would be a problem in the President's eyes and had to devise a way to keep the citizens happy. When they appeared for the Quarter Quell without Katniss, gossip circulated quickly throughout the city. They all wondered what had happened to their other star-crossed lover from District 12, their bride-to-be, their brave and strong Victor.

They learned first that she had been scared of marriage - had cold feet they called it. Next, they learned that she had left him. He hated being interviewed about that, having to share his most personal feelings with every person in the Capitol to make _them_ feel like _they_ knew what he was going through. To make them feel closer to him, to make them sympathize with him, (to make them keep him safe).

And, luckily, they loved their heartbroken Victor. Loved him more than they had before.

(It was the next year they learned Katniss was with someone else. And that made them love him even more).


	9. Chapter 9

After he met his son, the Capitol let him be. He no longer had to put on a show of any kind for them.

He didn't even have to return to the Capitol for the next games. Haymitch went on his own and returned to tell him that he was still the talk of the city. Rumors were flying on who could _possibly_ be the mother to his son.

(They would never find out. It forever remained a mysterious scandal in the Capitol).


	10. Chapter 10

(It bothered him that his son's name sounded so typically Capitol - Marcellus).

He had planned on changing it when he first returned home and even recruited Haymitch to help come up with a new name. But Haymitch would not let him.

"The kid's too old for that. He can walk. He can talk. Leave his name alone."

And so he left his son's name be. But he did try to brainstorm a few nicknames.


	11. Chapter 11

He always wondered if his son would have been better off growing up with a sick grandmother than a depressed (and somewhat neglectful) father.

The boy was surrounded with an odd variety of people during his early years. His son was around him to most, of course, and he truly did his best to raise him. Then Marcellus had Haymitch, who would come to check in every week, and who was like a drunken uncle that never really paid any attention to him.

Also, the boy had Primrose Everdeen who (probably against everyone's wishes) stopped in every other day to make sure both he and his son were well. She taught him how to take care of Marcellus and later watched the child when he did have to go to the Capitol for the Games. Prim was like his son's nanny and he would have paid her for it if he had not already known she had access to everything he could possibly give her.

It was hard not to love Prim, and he knew both he and his son did love her. But he also knew he could (would) never be _in_ love with Prim like he was (still) with her sister.

(_She's like the sister I could (would) have had,_ He thought to himself some days).


End file.
